To glowing life with those Arcadian sounds—

And vainly, vainly. No! a loftier strain,

A deeper music!—something that may bear

The spirit upon slow yet mighty wings,

Unsway’d by gusts of earth; something all fill’d

With solemn adoration, tearful prayer.

Sing me that antique strain which once I deem’d

Almost too sternly simple, too austere

In its grave majesty! I love it now—

Now it seems fraught with holiest power to hush